My thoughts about these chairs, they are now mostly garden ornaments. There was a time when chairs and porches were a big deal. You could sit on your porch of an evening and say hello to whoever walked by. You could say hello, or you could chat a bit, from a distance.You might invite people up onto the porch to sit with you and then, if things went well, you could ask them into your house for a piece of cake.These encounters don't happen much anymore.
There's a bench in a yard close to my place that has painted on it, Rest Ye and Thankful Be. I stop there sometimes while walking the hound, and we sit for a few minutes. The orange colored chairs don't seem to extend the same invitation.
Let's see. A couple of years ago I was walking through a field with my dog and we had a freak accident. I was thinking of taking a photograph of a tree. I had let Desmond go with his leash hanging, and as he (a big guy, Catahoula Leopard, a dog bred to coral wild pigs, State Dog of Louisiana no less) ran by me, the leash wrapped itself around my leg and didn't let go. My leg was broken in half and, yes, I heard the crack. My foot was displaced. I checked it out and put it back where I thought it belonged. Ouch! For a few seconds, the world went white, like an old black and white negative. Then I began to wave. People waved back! After what seemed an eternity, a car stopped. The rest was relatively good news - relatively because I live about six miles from town, and it took a year for my injury to heal. Ron Reed, the driver of the local Senior Citizens 'bus came through. He would pick me up at my house and take me where I wanted to go and then bring me back. I have no idea what I would have done without him.
The people who stopped on the road were neighbors. They belonged to the Calvary Baptist Church. With great kindness, over the next few weeks, they came to visit. Not long after the accident, ten people from the Church showed up unexpectedly at my cabin and stacked all my winter wood. Here they are (the Pastor is in the green shirt) and my friend, the computer wizard, Glen Comstock is on the far right. Small town generosity at it's absolute best.
Dean Thompson (retired) re-did all the electrical heating elements in the cabin. Now, they work so well, but electricity is prohibitively expensive so I try not to use it. "Shop around," someone said to me. What? You know (you know, I know you know) that the New Hampshire Electric Co-op is the only game in town!
Chris and Rodney of Hood Plumbing came by right after I moved into the cabin and fixed the water pump. The pump is situated in a small bunker about fifty yards down from the cabin, right in the woods. You have to find a concrete lid buried beneath all the fallen leaves. Then there's a space that one person can squeeze into. Chris was there, one day, all day. Later, they tackled the well which is farther down by the pond. It had not been cleaned out in many years and was full of rotting roots and weeds. A nasty job. They were most cheerful and hard working.